Waiting
by RishiGenki
Summary: England had never realized his feelings. The silly smile was a lie. Pairings if you squint. R&R please


**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**Waiting**

**A Hetalia Fanfiction by RishiandSquee**

**Pairings: They're there if you squint hard enough.**

When England woke up that morning, his first feeling was that of regret.

Regret that he hadn't done things differently.

Regret that he hadn't been there for the one little boy who needed him.

Regret that he had lost that little boy, the only person who really mattered to him, the child who he had loved as a little brother, who he had cared for, who he had sacrificed so much for, and, in the end, was forced to let go of.

America was the first thing on England's mind that morning.

Normally England doesn't feel like that first thing in the morning-sitting in the world meetings, listening to America's next ridiculous plan, seeing his million dollar smiles and his catchy laughs that got stuck in England's head for endless hours -that was what usually made him feel a tinge of regret.

When was the last time that England had seen America without scolding him? When was the last time that America had told England what was on his mind? When was the last time _England _had told America what was on his mind? When was the last time they had really talked to each other?

When did they start drifting apart?

That day, England decided to do something about it. He hated the feeling of regret first thing in the morning.

England stood outside America's house, taking deep breath. He looked up at the house, slowly exhaling.

Why was this so hard?

All he had to do was knock on the door, talk with America for a bit, then leave without losing his temper. It was easier to do in England's head, before he had started to actually think. He had thought of all the things that could go wrong. Soon he wondered if he should have really come.

England took another long look at the house and sighed.

Well, he had made it this far.

England knocked.

"Mattie, 's that you? The door's unlocked. You got the hangover medicine from Kiku, right?"

America's voice was still loud, even though the wooden door. England tried not to chuckled. Typical America.

England opened the door, turning a bit red in embarrassment. "Um, I'm not quite Matthew." he said with a smile. "How are you doing, Alfred?"

America was sprawled out on his couch, a bag of ice on his head. His eyes widened at the sight of the green-eyed country.

"A-Arthur? What are you doing here?" he asked, blinking.

"Nothing, I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I would pay you a visit." England reminded himself to smile, and he did. "May I come in and sit down?"

America struggled to sit up. He looked tired, and like he had a pretty nasty hangover. "Yeah, sure." America went back to grinning his old smile. "Sorry if I'm a mess. Mattie and I went drinking, and I guess I had a little too much fun."

England frowned as he sat down in a nearby recliner. "Don't worry about it. I've seen you in much more pathetic states." England paused. He looked down at his fingers, then around the room, trying to come up with something else to say. "Did you...well, did you have fun?" he finally asked, looking over to America.

America laughed, then winced, pushing the bag of ice harder to his head. "Yeah, of course I did! You know me, I partied as hard as I could! You should really join us next time."

England looked back down to his hands, fiddling with his fingers. "Yes, I suppose that maybe I will next time...well, if Francis doesn't get to me first."

There was silence. England continued to play with his hands, while America looked up at the ceiling. The two were clearly uncomfortable.

"So, uh..." America was the one who spoke first. "I mean, what brought you to this neighborhood?"

England's head swerved up. He looked sternly at the American. "You mean I can't come to visit you?" he asked, clearly upset.

America blinked. "Of course you can. It's just that, you know...we haven't really talked like this in a long time. You hate coming to see me."

"Maybe I should fix that."

The words went through England's head and out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it. England flushed as America stared at him.

"W-well, I came over to see if you wanted to do anything today, but I can see that you're clearly indisposed." The blond country stood, his familiar scowl plastered on his face. He paused, looking around again. The house was a mess-with papers, wrappers, plates and other items that England could not identify-strewn across the room.

England always remembered America's house being a mess, even when he had been a child. England almost smiled as he recalled chiding the boy when he had found America's things all hidden under his bed. Clutter was not tolerated back then.

America's face changed for a moment-England caught the other country's expression for only a split second-as England started to walk towards the door. America stood up, then groaned and fell back onto the couch, holding his head.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" America grinned. "Come on, I really do want to talk to you. Sit back down, Arthur."

England smiled. "I was hoping you would say that." he said as he took the sat on the couch, next to America. America tried to straighten up as best he could. England glanced at him, bits of concern and worry creeping into his mind. "S-so, what would you like to talk about?" England asked earnestly.

America shrugged. "Dunno." he said, looking back at England through a sideways glance. "Heroes, maybe...um, there was this really cool anime that Kiku lent me, but you don't really watch too much of that stuff, do you? It really has been a while since we just talked."

England fiddled with his bangs. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing this morning." he replied.

More silence. This really wasn't going well.

England bit his lip. He hadn't lost his temper yet, but that was because there was nothing to lose his temper at.

"How's Francis?"

England looked over to America and blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Francis. I haven't talked to him lately. How's he doing?" America avoided England's eyes, a small blush starting to form at his cheeks. "You're always hanging out with him, so I figured you knew."

England groaned. "Yeah, well, he's always clinging to me, asking me out for drinks, then making me stay over at his house because I get stark-raving drunk... " the older country ran his hands through his hair, clearly irritated. _Come to think of it, whenever I go drinking with France, I always wind up with a nasty hangover. Bloody git. I need to stay in my own house and away from him. _

England must have been spacing out, because America chuckled. England flushed, glaring at America. "What's so funny?" he exclaimed.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Excuse me?"

America poked England playfully on the cheek. "You look like you're having some pretty interesting thoughts. What are you thinking about?"

England pushed America's hand aside. "Nothing, just how Francis completely pisses me off. I'm surprised he hasn't asked me to marry him yet. I'm over at his house enough." England ran his hand through his hair again, trying to keep himself from ranting about how much Francis sucked, and how he _hated _Francis, but just couldn't keep himself from hanging around the git.

America let out another loud laugh, and then a groan as he clutched his head. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that did happen. You and Francis are pretty attached to each other."

England choked on a cough. "Are you serious? I thought that you, of all people, would know how much I hate Francis! We've been fighting since the day we met each other!"

America chuckled, still holding his head. "Yeah, well, you've shown me a lot of hate over the years, too, but here we are."

England's face fell. He looked at America, into his blue eyes. "Is that how you feel? You...you say that like I just couldn't be in the same room as you. Do you seriously think that I hate you that much?"

America looked away. "Well, it was that way for a while, yeah." he replied softly.

"...I'm sorry you feel that way."

America looked back at England, a puzzled look on his face. He smiled, but it was different this time.

"You don't have to be sorry. I mean, it's not like I haven't done anything to deserve it." America put down the bag of ice, staring at England. "I put us through an entire revolution, and I must have caused a lot of trouble for everyone else, too-"

"Don't you dare talk like that." 

England glared at the America, who blinked in surprise.

"You're too old to think that this is all your fault. You were a good kid, and I wreaked your childhood because I was away so often. I thought about it, for a long time, and...well, it was my fault." England looked down, red. He hated admitting he was wrong, but the look on America's face-for the split second England saw it-England hated that even more.

"The only reason you mess up is because I didn't raise you right. Hell, I hardly raised you. You were off on your own for so often, having to fend for yourself... I'm surprised that you don't hate me."

America grabbed England's shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up." he said, still smiling. "Look, you had a lot going on back then. Of course you had to leave me alone. Besides, I've always been the hero, right? The hero can fend for himself. And I always did, didn't I?"

"Yeah, well..." England trailed off, trying to find a response to combat America with, but couldn't.

America sighed, then slumped down, groaning. "Ugh..." he mumbled, holding his head in his hands.

"D-do you want me to get anything for that headache of yours?" England looked worriedly at America, his large eyebrows furrowed. "Hangovers are a pain, but I know where to get some really great stuff to combat it."

"...it's fine, it's fine. Don't worry about it." America peeked at England through his hands. England saw a smile, but wasn't fooled.

"I really should get you something. You went at it a little too hard there, didn't you?"

"Heh...like you have any right to talk." America replied, pushing the bangs out of his eyes. 

"Ha ha. Make fun if you will, but I'm older then you are." England scowled, trying to act smart. "I'll be right back. Lay down and try to take a nap, okay?"

England got up from the couch and headed to the door.

"W-wait! Arthur, hey! You don't have to-"

England ignored America continued to walk to the door until he heard a_ thump_. Quickly, he turned around to find America sprawled out on the floor.

England's mind went blank.

He watched, dumbstruck, as America struggled to get up-he was in _pain_, the boy must have been hurting so much-all the while, calling for him.

"Arthur-what's the rush? I mean, you don't have to-" America shuddered, then his head fell to the floor with another loud _thump_.

Finally gathering his senses, England rushed over to the blue-eyed country. He lifted the boy off the ground, checking for bruises. "Are you all right?" he asked, wide eyed as he cradled the hero's head in his lap. "You must have gotten up too quickly. Are you dizzy? Do you need to lay down? Are you hurt anywhere? Goddammit, _answer me_."

America opened his eyes. The boy was still smiling, but obviously not okay.

It broke England's heart.

"Yeah, I...I'm fine. I was...I mean, if you leave...just don't go. Please, don't. If you go...you won't come back."

"What are you _talking_ about, you git? I said I would be right back, didn't I?" England bit back hot tears. "You're in pain! You're hurt! Why in the world-?"

America didn't reply. He just smiled.

That was too much.

England wrapped his arms around the tall blond. He encased the American in a tight hug, trying to keep himself composed. "Did you...did you honestly think I would just leave you like this?" he asked gently.

America clung to the back of England's shirt. England could feel him trembling, shaking, holding back sobs.

It was then that England realized. _America was in pain._ There was something gnawing at the hero's heart, something that hurt him so deeply that he had to hide.

"Are you...are you constantly holding back all this pain? Are you always this afraid, this...this _vulnerable_? Behind that silly hero laugh of yours, is this...is this how you really feel when you see me?"

There was no need for an answer. England held America tighter. 

"This really is all my fault. Please, I'm not going to leave you as long as you need me. Please, just...just please..." England started to cry, despite the fact that America was the one who needed to have a good cry. "I'll stay with you as long as you want me to. Just...just _please_..."

America finally let out a sob. He clung to England and cried, just as he did as a boy, when things were so much different.

All England had to do back then was mention that he was leaving, and America would beg him not to go. He would cry, have a temper, sulk...when had all that stopped? When was the last time England had even seen America the tiniest bit upset? It had been more then two hundred years.

When was it that America had given up on England?

England struggled to help America up. He sat back down at the couch, trying to get the other country to lay his head down on his lap. America shook his head. "N-no...I think I'm a bit old for that." he said shakily, still trying to hold onto his smile. England glared back with a stern yet caring face, urging America to do _something_.

America sat down, holding his head in his hands, occasionally trembling or letting out a small sob. England frowned again.

"Alfred."

"What, Arthur?"

"What's the matter with you? Why are you-"

"It's nothing, forget about it." England was astounded by the almost cheerfulness in America-s voice. "I'm tired and I drank way too much last night. You know how that is, right? You start _thinking._..and then you start _regretting_...man, I must look really pathetic right now."

"I told you to stop talking like that. You and I both know that you're hurting, so would you kindly stop this charade?"

"Nah, sorry. I've been like this for so long that I don't really know how to." America chuckled.

"...I really did hurt you, didn't I? It's all my fault. I was supposed to be your hero, and I abandoned you. You had to become your own hero." England's face twisted in regret. "I forced you to hold more pain then any child should have. You're still holding onto it...the last reminder of how things used to be."

"Arthur, it's not your fault!" America protested. "It has nothing to do with you. You never did-"

"Don't say I never did anything wrong. I did a lot of things wrong. I did _everything_ wrong with you!" England was infuriated. "You can't just sit here and _lie_ to me and tell me I _never did a thing wrong_!" England started to fuss. "It's okay, I've already accepted the fact that I'm to blame. It's _my _fault, and I _order_ you to blame me!"

America lowered his hands. Small tracks of tears ran down his face. "But...but I never blamed you. And I don't want to blame you." he said quietly, dropping his smile.

"I want you to. You_ should_." England turned away, propping his forehead up with his hands. America looked down at the floor, and for a while, there was silence.

"...I got fed up with waiting."

"I shouldn't have left you to wait in the first place. I honestly don't know what I was thinking back then."

"Who knows why you did it? That was over two hundred years ago. There's nothing you can do about it now."

"Well, I should at least do _something. _I feel horrible." England looked back over to his former colony.

America bit his lip. "...why now? Why now, of all times, are you feeling like this? What made you feel so guilty?"

England looked down. "I don't know. Sometimes, when I drink, I start_ thinking_...and then I start _regretting_." He sighed. "Look, I can't help thinking I ignored you back then, and for some reason, I..."

America softly smiled. "So you figured out what you did wrong, then. You know what you need to fix for the next time you take in another kid. That's...that's good enough for me."

"Well, it's not for me, there has to be something I can do to make up for all those years."

The boy shook his head. "No, that's...I mean, if you can do anything..." he leaned over to rest his head on England's lap. "Just...let me sleep for a bit, okay?"

England's face softened. "...go ahead." he said-whispered, almost-as the American closed his eyes.

Soon, America's soft breathing was the only thing that filled the room. England looked over the room again. Messy, but it had character, and something hidden deep into the mess.

England couldn't help feeling that this room was a lot like America.

"So he's finally asleep, eh?"

A soft, almost inaudible voice jolted England's mind back into reality. England jumped slightly, trying not to wake the sleeping country, and turned to where the sound was coming fro "G-guh! Matthew?"

"I'm Cana-wait, no, I'm Matthew, too." Canada was sitting on the recliner, his polar bear, Kumajiro, in his arms.

"When the _hell_ did you get in here?" England hissed.

Canada frowned. "I've been here for a while." he said softly. "I guess being unnoticed has it's uses, eh? Al needed to talk to you."

England's brows furrowed. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Canada sighed. "Last night, Al was pretty bummed about you, so I took him drinking. He needs that every once in awhile." he pouted slightly, his curly hair bouncing.

England took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Then it's my fault, huh?"

"Don't you do the same thing when you think about America? Francis tells me that he has to drag you home often." Canada fidgeted.

England's mouth twitched. "That's the last time I ever go out drinking with him." he muttered. "Anyway, I'm older then you and Alfred, so that's besides the point." England scowled.

"Yeah, so you should know better, eh?"

England blushed. "S-shut up. Obviously I know better then to drink until I'm sick. What I _don't _know is how to decline an invitation from that cheese-eating_ git_."

Canada giggled softly for a moment, but then he frowned. "Arthur, Al doesn't want to admit it, but...he cries when he thinks of the past sometimes." he said gently.

England sighed. "I know, why does he do that to himself? Cry, and then try to hide it." England started to play with America's hair. He took a childish delight in messing it up.

"I don't think even Al knows why."

England didn't reply. He sat, trapped in his own thoughts.

After another awkward, silent moment, Canada stood up and walked over to England. He pinched England's cheek, smiling. "Penny for your thoughts."

England flinched. "Hey-! Why does everyone do that?" he asked, annoyed. His face fell slowly. "Hey...w-what if...what if it was me or you in his position? Would we be able to take it?"

Canada shrugged. "Who knows?"

Another pause.

"...is there any way to fix this?"

"If there was, I would have fixed him already. Al's strong, he just needs to have someone to lean on. I think he'll fix himself eventually...but it'll take a long time. So all we can do...is probably just be here in case he needs support."

England sighed. "...yay us." he said, lacking emotion. Carefully, he stood, holding the American up. "I'm taking him to his room, if you don't mind."

Canada pouted. "...hey, it's usually my job to do that." he whispered, almost whining.

England grinned, a glint in his eye. "Hey, I haven't been able to do this for over two centuries. Cut me a break, will you?" he chuckled as he carried America up the stairs.

England pulled the covers over the sleeping American. He sat on the edge of the bed, then brushed the hair out of America's face, gazing down fondly. He hadn't seen America this peaceful in ages. He was peaceful, and yet...

England frowned. "...I know I'm only realizing my mistake now...and I know I've done unforgivable damage, but I promise...I'm going to make it better, for the both of us, even." he gently caressed America's cheek. "Alright? So you don't need to get so sloshed whenever you think of how I screwed up."

"...Arthur?"

England looked back down at the American. "Yeah, Al?"

"Arthur, I...I had the worst dream. I...it was horrible. I dreamt that you said you would be right back, but you weren't, and I grew up, and you hated me...it was horrible, Arthur." America choked down a sob.

"No, no no no, it's quite alright, Al. I'm right here. I learned my mistake, I'm not going to leave you again as long as you need me." England put his hand on America's forehead. "I'm going to make up for all the horrible things I put you though. I promise."

"..oh." America opened his eyes, looking up at England, almost disappointed. "It wasn't a dream. Your hands...they're so small."

"...sadly, it wasn't. I'm sorry, Alfred."

America closed his eyes again. He tried to push England's hand away, but to no avail. "...sorry. I must look so uncool right now."

England paused, frowning. "Are you serious? After all you just went through, you're still going to value your image that much? Is that why you won't cry in front of any of us?"

America grinned that million-dollar smile, the one he had put on so many times before. "Of course. I'm the hero, after all."

"...I don't ever think I'll be able to look at that smile the same way ever again." England said softly. "I don't know how much I can trust that smile."

America's smile dropped. Tears started to form in his blue eyes. "...sorry." he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry. I..." he sobbed.

England held America, trying to comfort the poor boy. "I know, it's okay. It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to cry. You're okay. You've got people here who will support you...and I'm sure that others will support you, if you let them."

"I'm sorry, Arthur...! I-I'm sorry...!" America hiccupped, and the boy started to cry again, this time without trying to hide it.

England smiled gently. "That's all I wanted from you. I wanted you to cry without trying to hide it." he kissed America's forehead head gently. "I promise, I won't tell anyone about this, okay? Just cry as long as you need to."

"T-that's what..." America sniffed. "That's what Mattie said, but I bet he told you..."

England sighed, leaned down, and held America. "Shhh. It'll be our little secret, I promise. No one ever listens to Matthew, anyway." he stroked America's hair. "Just...I'm sorry it took so long to get through to you. It must have been lonely."

America continued to cry, for what seemed like a long time. England held him quietly, unmoving.

"Arthur...I...I never hated you. Even during the rebellion, I didn't hate you." America's voice was tiny, almost a whisper. "I just...I just didn't want you to think about me. It was safer thinking that you didn't come because you hated me, then wondering if you were ever gonna come. You were always so busy, Arthur. It was safer. On my own, it was safer."

The words that dripped out of America's mouth were small, weak, and helpless. England couldn't help feeling even guiltier.

_I caused this...this was all me._

America's hand wiped England's cheek. "Hey...don't give me that look. You're my big brother. Big brothers shouldn't cry because their little brother's a lame hero"

England burst into tears. He sobbed, holding onto America. "You don't deserve such a horrible older brother! I left you...and yet you still forgive me!" he cried, clinging. "I swear, I love you! I love you! I love you, and I always did, and I always will!"

America laughed softly. "I love you too, Arthur. You're my big brother, You always have, and you always will be."

England squeezed America tighter as the two wept. It didn't take long until the two were fast asleep, holding tightly onto each other.

"Oh ho ho...so the two idiot brothers finally decided to make up?"

"Y-yeah, I think so. They cried for a really long time."

Canada gazed into the room, holding Kumajiro in his arms. France stood next to him, his arm leaning on the doorframe.

"After over two hundred years, they decided to finally be honest with each other." France waltzed into the room, looking at the two sleeping countries. "It's funny..." France poked England's cheek, grinning.

"When you look at them close enough, they really do look like brothers who have been waiting for each other for a long, long time."

**~End**


End file.
